


Dragon Defined

by FamiliarHarper



Category: Dragonriders of Pern - Anne McCaffrey
Genre: Gen, Harper (Pern), Pern, Tradesmen (Pern)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-24
Updated: 2014-09-24
Packaged: 2018-02-18 15:23:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2353193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FamiliarHarper/pseuds/FamiliarHarper





	Dragon Defined

“Perhaps we are getting too old for this, eh Lyric,” Toreny murmured to his runnerbeast as he leaned forward in the saddle, feeling his spine re-align itself with a now familiar pop. He took advantage of the transition of his weight to offer a brief rub along the old mare’s neck, fingers shifting through dark, bristled chestnut fur and noting with quiet amusement the grey hairs there. He patted her twice before leaning back again, briefly pulling his hand up to his own head: he had plenty of grey up there himself these days. Humorous really, to think how long the two of them had been making this trip.

How many turns had it been? Toreny took a moment to glance at the coast to his left, then brought his gaze back to the plants and distant mountains along his right. The sea was a faithful constant, and a reassuring one at that. This particular stretch, riding down from Hold Gar to his various appointments near Southern Boll, always gratified him with a view out to the low rise of Ista, and the occasional glimpse of that Weyr’s fighting dragons in formation when their training took them farther West across the sea. They had been there as long as he had been riding this way, seemingly timeless and unchanging, for all that he knew Weyr politics to be an ever evolving mess that he would gladly leave to Masterharper Sebell, Menolly and their journeymen.

Toreny then considered the view to his right. Those familiar rolling lowlands, rising swiftly to mountains as his gaze traveled west: those gave him a sense of the passing of the turns, most assuredly. There had been a time, in his earliest years as a traveling tutor, when the entire stretch between Fort and the southern point of her peninsula remained relatively uninhabited. Yet the growth of Fort Weyr, and the stronger leadership therein, seemed to have successfully encouraged greater trust in the protection provided by Dragonriders. In recent turns, there always seemed to be some new piece of land in the midst of taming, being fenced in for farming or herding each time he traveled through. It boded well for the livelihood of those whose home he was nearing, if less so for their way of life.

He reined Lyric in and glanced upward, considering the sun’s position and his own location. He’d be nearing the eastern bulge by day’s end certainly, and with it, hopefully some sign of those he sought: provided they had not found a particularly profitable, if isolated, holder amongst the various new upstarts he had seen along the way. Shaking his head, Toreny squeezed his mare’s sides with his knees to inspire her to motion and shifted his thoughts back to which lesson songs might best suit the children for this month’s class. “The Duty Song” was always a lively one to draw the young ones in, and even the littlest among them would know the opening and closing verse to join. Plus he had a new verse mentally written during the hours riding on his last trip around the coast that he hoped would help these children of Tradesmen to feel a little more a part of the world; after all, they would see far more of it in their lives than many of the holders and craftsmen who were mentioned in the original!

Secondmonth was generally kind to a traveling Harper on this route, not yet too warm even as he neared one of the southernmost points of the entire Northern continent, and Toreny was grateful for it. Nevertheless, it was something of a relief when his runnerbeast took them over the next small hill and a massive camp of tents and wagons spread out before them. Within seconds, children of all ages came spilling out of wagons, looking up from chores or games and greeting him with shouts of “Toreny! Journeyman Toreny’s back!” Toreny could not help but laugh as children tugged at his blue sleeves and trousers from both sides, and remained grateful for the steady patience of Lyric beneath him as she was met, as she always was, with an onslaught of tiny hands, grasping at her mane and ears. Granted, the lumps of sugar passed up by a few of the young ones who knew to expect the pair likely did not hurt her mood.

“Give me a moment, children. Just a bit of room, if you please.”

Toreny slid down from the mare’s back when he had enough space to do so, and was immediately hugged by several of the younger children all at once. He scooped the smallest boy to deftly heft him behind his shoulders, pointedly ignoring the aches of two days full riding, and looked up to offer an amused grin at the adults who were now walking over themselves. He freed his right arm long enough to firmly shake the right hand of the short, solidly-built woman who approached first, eyes widening only slightly as he saw that she wore the knotted pattern of Head Tradesman upon her vest’s right shoulder.

“It is good to see you again, Aydara,” the harper hesitated, considering, “Though I wish it were under happier circumstances.”

The tradeswoman nodded, a small smile curving at her lips that did not quite reach her eyes, “My father would have liked to have hear your songs again, Toreny. Still, it is good that you have arrived when you did. We could all stand for a bit of cheer so soon after his passing.”

Toreny nodded, “Of course, Lady. I will play some of his favorites this evening for any who wish to hear.”

“You will have a larger crowd than usual, I suspect,” Aydara commented, gesturing back to the many tents behind them, scattered amongst the wagons.

“Is that so?”

“We took on some Holdless recently.”

Toreny considered the number of tents more closely, recognizing the implications of a drastically changed community so shortly after a change in leadership, but only murmured, “A kind gesture.”

He glanced down at the children, most of whom were beginning to look a bit bored as the conversation continued. “And have you all been finding new friends amongst the newcomers?”

The child atop his head shook his head in the negative so fervently that Toreny’s shoulders rocked, and ached, with the motion. “That’s a bit harsh up there, my friend, don’t you think?”

Another little girl, still holding Toreny’s left hand, bit her lip. She glanced back and forth between harper and tradeswoman, before quietly saying, “They’re not like us, Journeyman Toreny. It’s hard.”

Toreny smiled down at her, “It is always difficult to adjust to change, little one, that is certainly true. But I have yet to see a challenge that your people could not surmount, isn’t that so?”

Several of the children nodded at this, a few even grinned, but none said anything further. Several other traders joined the group a moment later, expressing their greetings to Toreny and welcoming him to stop by their tent at some point during their stay. The harper greeted some with a handshake, but many more with a warm embrace, including, to his immense surprise, one very familiar face who had waited for most others to give their hellos. The woman stepped forward proudly, a small child with short cropped hair and pants that already showed signs of many youthful adventures, gripping her hand as though it might disappear if ever released.

Toreny beamed, voice vibrant with surprise, “Lanna! My goodness, has it been so long since you were singing “The Question Song” in our lessons here? And back from the Southern Conti…”

Toreny trailed off as the group surrounding him seemed to disperse without warning. Even Aydara took her leave, though she did it with care, directing one of the older youths to see to Toreny’s runnerbeast and herding most of the children back to the wagons. A sharp shout from one of the departing men earned an apologetic whisper of farewell from Toreny’s shoulder companion, and the little boy scrambled awkwardly down his back and took off after the rest of the group. The harper stared after them for a moment, then turned back to Lanna, whose expression remained neutral despite the damp collecting at the corners of her dark eyes.

Toreny smiled warmly, shrugging off his confusion with a wink, “Apparently I have missed far more than I originally believed! But whatever the news, it can wait. First, I require a hug from my old pupil and an introduction to her shy, but intriguing young companion.”

The young woman hesitated, then bridged the distance between them swiftly, and Toreny hugged her close, pointedly ignoring the faces which had turned back to stare. He offered a reassuring smile at the young one, who continued to stare at Lanna as she hugged the harper with a depth of concern Toreny rarely saw in children of such a young age. After a few moments, Lanna was able to collect herself and stepped back, tucking a strand of black hair back behind an ear that had come loose from its braid. Almost immediately the child reclaimed Lanna’s hand, glaring up at Toreny with a fierce protectiveness that belied her prior uncertainty.

Lanna glanced down and seeing the child’s expression, gave her small hand a quick squeeze in return, “I’m alright Sekala. Toreny is a friend. Toreny, my daughter Sekala.”

Toreny bent his knees, grumbling to himself as they crackled loudly enough to be heard, to reach the girl’s height, “Well met, Sekala.”

She crossed her arms, “Kal.”

The harper extended his hand, genuine apology touching his eyes, “Well met, Kal.”

Small grey eyes met the harper’s green ones for a long moment, before a small hand finally extended from between arm and ribs, gripping the harper’s with as much strength as she could muster. Toreny shook it firmly then rose, looking back to Lanna and making a pointed show of stretching.

“I don’t suppose this caravan still supplies the best klah this side of the continent, or that a weary harper might share a mug with an old student and friend to wake himself up before performing this evening?”

A soft laugh escaping Lanna’s lips before she could stifle it, “Of course, Journeyman Toreny, of course.”

“Then lead on, then my gracious hostesses! One would certainly not want me to fall asleep mid-ballad. You’d never hear what happened at the end of Lessa’s ride!”

“The greatest of tragedies, I’m sure.”

“The very worst!”


End file.
